Page 60 of Bound In Shadow

Lysandra and I share a sharp glance. She rubs a hand over her face. “We knew they wouldn’t let us rest.”

I nod grimly. “Assemble everyone. We need to plan.”

The soldier salutes and retreats. Lysandra draws a fortifying breath, then steps closer, her fingers brushing mine in a fleeting gesture of comfort. I squeeze her hand back, then lead the way out into the night air.

Outside, the air brims with tension. Our combined forces—Dark Elves and humans—mingle under lanterns, exchanging worried murmurs. We gather them near the barn, where we hastily arrange a circle of crates and barrels as a makeshift table. Lysandra takes her place beside me, shoulders squared.

Takar addresses me first, posture stiff. “The messenger says council outriders are combing the farmland. If they discover multiple enclaves uniting under you, they’ll strike swiftly.”

Lysandra clenches her jaw. “That means we can’t remain scattered. We need to either relocate or stand firm. But where?”

One of the humans—Jarin from the orchard—chimes in, “We can’t outrun them forever. Some of the enclaves have families, elderly, children. We need a defensible position.”

My thoughts race. The farmland is mostly open fields, with few natural fortifications. The orchard is large enough to conceal a band, but not an entire alliance. And it’s too close to the fortress. “We must move farther south,” I say slowly, recalling maps I studied. “There’s a series of rocky hills near the southern frontier. Sparse settlements, but terrain we can use. The council’s cavalry will have trouble maneuvering there.”

Lysandra nods, face thoughtful. “That might buy time. Enough to unify more enclaves, perhaps. Or even arrange contact with distant regions beyond the council’s usual reach.”

The group exchanges glances. A ripple of guarded hope passes. Takar inclines his head. “We can start relocating at first light. Council outriders might catch up, but we can stage skirmishes to slow them.”

Jarin hesitates, then sighs. “We’re with you. Our farmland can’t hold if the council charges in full force. Better to retreat and consolidate.”

A hum of agreement spreads. My chest loosens a fraction.Maybe we have a plan.I cast a sidelong glance at Lysandra, recalling the closeness we just shared.She’s no longer my captive; she’s my partner in every sense.

“All right,” I say. “Gather supplies. We leave before sunrise. If the council outriders approach, we’ll form defensive lines but avoid a pitched battle. The more enclaves we rally, the better chance we have to eventually push back.”

The meeting disperses, everyone bustling to pack. Lysandra lingers at my side, releasing a slow breath. “I guess we have a heading.”

I nod, glimpsing the worry in her eyes. “One day at a time.” I brush my knuckles against her arm, a silent promise that I’m here. Her gaze softens, and for a moment, the orchard’s intimacy resurfaces in the slight curve of her lips. Then we part ways, each tending to final preparations.

Near midnight, the camp hums with low activity—people bundling sacks of grain, quietly dismantling makeshift barricades. We plan to move under cover of darkness to avoid detection. I stand watch near the orchard’s edge, scanning the fields. The tension in my shoulders remains coiled, my heart still reeling from the day’s revelations and the closeness I shared with Lysandra in the stable.

She joins me by the orchard line, arms wrapped around herself against the chill. “Everything’s set,” she murmurs, voice subdued. “We’ll depart in an hour.”

I nod, exhaling a cloud of white in the cool air. “Good.”

Silence wraps around us. Then she places a hand on my arm, leaning in so her voice is only for me. “I meant what I said: I’m scared, but I trust you now, Xelith. I won’t run again.”

Emotion thickens my throat. I slip an arm around her midsection, drawing her close, ignoring the curious stares of a few watchful soldiers. “I won’t fail you,” I whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “We fight as one from here on.”

She nods, eyes gleaming with conviction. The orchard rustles with wind, and under that quiet star-studded sky, we share a fleeting moment of solace. My mind drifts to the crisis still looming, the battles that might break by dawn or the next day. But in this hush, we’re united, our bond tempered by the fire of adversity.

No matter what storms the council unleashes, we’ll face it together.I refuse to lose her,I vow silently.Even if it costs me everything else.

15

LYSANDRA

Istand on the corner of Pyrthos’s grand courtyard, every muscle coiled with tension. Two weeks ago, I was just a rebel slipping through shadowed alleys. Now I march at the head of an army—albeit a ragged, uneasy alliance of humans and Dark Elves. The dawn sky casts a pale orange glow over towering spires and fortress walls, gilding the ancient stones in temporary serenity. It feels like the final calm before the world ignites.

Xelith dismounts beside me, his obsidian skin gleaming in the half-light, the silver war sigils on his forearms capturing the dawn’s shimmer. He’s returned to these walls he once called home, a prince no longer welcomed by his own. For the first time, I sense his apprehension rolling off him—despite the controlled expression on his face, there’s a tension in the line of his shoulders.

I swallow hard, scanning the courtyard. Guards line the parapets, their silhouettes motionless against the sky. Down below, we see a cluster of council loyalists forming ranks, spears gleaming. There’s no subtlety here: they know we’ve come. Even from this distance, I feel the charged hostility, a wave of animosity that radiates from the fortress walls.

Behind me, our combined forces wait with bated breath. Humans dressed in scavenged leathers, carrying makeshift weapons, stand side by side with a handful of Dark Elf soldiers who chose Xelith over the council. They don’t fully trust one another, but they move in uneasy solidarity—because if we fail, we all face extermination.

“Ready?” Xelith murmurs. His voice is pitched low, a private question in the midst of so many watchful eyes.

A tremor runs through me, but I lift my chin. “As I’ll ever be,” I answer, though my throat feels tight.

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